


Champion of Corruption

by purpleblind



Category: Corruption of Champions
Genre: Age Difference, Anal, Anthropomorphic, Bisexual Character, Breeding, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Furry, Futanari, Hand Jobs, Impregnation, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mpreg, Multi, Oral Sex, Oviposition, Trans Male Character, Transformation, Vaginal, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleblind/pseuds/purpleblind
Summary: With TiTS overshadowing further developement of CoC, and I being a bigger fan of the latter, I thought I'd give it a new chance to breathe by giving a new story based on it (since I sure as hell can't program!).  This is an AU based closely off Fenoxo's excellent Corruption of Champions, now presented in a new setting and context for people to enjoy.  Familiarity with the game is not necessary, as the story is self-contained.The rise of the Champion of Corruption is a key part of the demonic prophecies that will usher in a new dark age for the beleaguered world of Shorn, prompting seekers and hunters to search high and low for this fell messiah.  Ignorant of all this, three champions from the isolated village of Ingnam arrive to find themselves in a world unlike any other; a world where form is malleable, lust and corruption run rampant, and power and sex run side by side.  As they confront their destinies by unravelling the mysteries of Shorn, how long can they stave off the darkness of Shorn that pervades through the weakest of all human vulnerabilities: Desire.





	1. Rites of Ingnam

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Champion of Corruption is a non-profit work based off Corruption of Champions. I do not, in any way, claim ownership. All rights to the relevant characters/concepts belong to Fenoxo and their creators, who worked hard to contribute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Group masturbation, M/F Hand job & Facial, Voyeurism

 

Sorryn grimaced; sweat had beaded on his brow and the muscles in his arms strained as he gripped the handles of the chair in a white-knuckle grip. He shot a quick glance at the girl who reclined in her chair nearby out of arms reach, her face just as strained and in no better state than his. Apart from the two of them, six others were seated in a semi-circle, and similarly distressed. Realising he did not have time to be concerned about the others, he focussed forward to try and better resist the instrument of his torture - a pale, slender hand that stroked his erect manhood with a surprisingly skilful, if cool, grip - the owner of which was a bland faced, dispassionate young woman, with distant eyes beneath her cowl, who muttered barely discernible orisons as she went about her present duties. Sorryn did not recognise the woman despite having lived in the village all his life, and wondered where she had come from, for Ingnam had never seen a traveller for many years.

The ceremonial robe, his one and only garment, that he had entered the chamber with, had been carefully folded and placed on a stool nearby by the same girl who currently attended him. He now lay back on the reclining chair completely naked except for sanctified oils and paints that had been traced across his body with a light finger, whilst a bronze torc of serpent motif clung gently to his neck.

The girl beside him was called Karren, and when she caught him looking, her glare was angry. She would have probably been furious, but was unable to concentrate on anger for long, for she was also attended by an almost identical hooded Acolyte, who's hand worked sensually between Karren's legs. There was rivalry between them, but it was a one-sided affair as far as Sorryn was concerned.

Nearby, a choked cry went up, and several heads swung in that direction. Marcus, the oldest participant there, being in his mid-twenties, groaned as his orgasm came to term and began to dribble down his length and the hand of his attendant. Spent, he lay sprawled on the chair, as inert as a sack of salt, whilst his attending Acolyte went to cleanse her hand in a nearby bowl. The seven remaining participants returned to concentrating on their own plight.

They were not the only people in the room, nor were they even the dominant element, despite the sordid display group masturbation. In front of the half-circle, thirteen men and women sat silently behind a heavy raised table, looking on impassively. Garbed in heavy black robes, splashed with designs of gold and crimson, their heavy hoods shadowed their features though everyone present knew who they were. The village Elders watched without comment as, one by one, the prospectives succumbed to orgasm.

The scent of male potence and female concupiscence was heavy in the air, by the time it was just down to Sorryn and Karren. The girl had her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration as she drank great gulps of air whilst beads of sweat traced teasing paths between the valley of her breasts and the around the curves of her body. Sorryn did not close his eyes, but kept looking about, trying to keep a dispassionate, almost academic view of the pleasure wracking his body. But, significantly, he glanced in the direction of one of the Elders; this man was Elder Eomun, the father of Sarah, who's approval he was desperately trying to win for their courtship, yet deep down, Sorryn strongly suspected the man had an intense dislike of him.

A harsh spasm ripped through him. Sorryn wasn't sure if it was the end, but it felt like it. Karren showed no evidence that she was even close, and even looked at ease enough to take pleasure in the matter somewhat. Another glance at Eomun, and his pride welled up, determined not to show weakness before the man that he had unconsciously come to hate. A strained cry escaped his lips, and the Acolyte began to raise her free hand to signal his end.

Sorryn's outburst was one, not of orgasm, but defiance. In a single moment, Sorryn refused to have it end so easily, and, in that moment, lost his girl, his life in Ingnam, and put him on the path of hardship and woe. Of course, Sorryn could not foretell the future, and with a supreme effort of will, he choked down the rising ecstasy as if it were his mortal enemy with an intensity so great it was painful enough to cause his engorged member to slacken slightly. The Acolyte dropped her hand and raised a brow in mild surprise, but smoothly returned to her task.

As the minutes went on, the other prospectives looked on, even as they dressed, for the remaining two continued to endure. Deep gasps were the only thing that could be heard, beside the slippery sounds of slick hands working.

The pale face Acolyte suddenly gave back with a startled gasp as Sorryn's member gave out, and a heavy string of his ejaculate shot without warning to slap upon her face, where it clung as she staggered back. Sorryn's strained grunts were about the only dignity he could muster as he emptied out the spewing contents of his balls across the chair and his body. It was the first time in his life that he had experienced such force of orgasm, but then, it was also the first time he had ever been intimately touched by a hand not his own.

Jerking upright, he gasped and his ears began to burn as Karren laughed stingingly.

"Too bad," she taunted. "You put up a brave show, but I knew it wasn't going to be enough – if you spent less time being a braggart and more time being a man, you would have probably had a chance!"

Sorryn locked his jaw, despite the urgent desire to retort – the gods knew he had plenty to spare and then some – but it would only validate Karren's words that he was all bluster and no muster. And part of him burned that there was some truth in her words.

"Let's face it, you–"

"Silence!" It was the stately voice of one of the female Elders, Verana. "Remember where you are, Karren Sandrick."

There was instant silence, in which not even breathing could be heard. The Elders had been so quiet through the whole rite that to hear one of their number speak was a shock in itself. Elder Verana took her seat again. "Remain as you were Miss Karren; I do not believe you have finished with your own ordeal yet."

Karren looked on confused for a moment, before realising that being the last person standing did not exempt her from the conclusion everyone else had experienced, and she slowly reclined again Her hot glare was accusatory as she glanced at Sorryn, as though she held him responsible for the reprimand and humiliation.

"The remainder of you will clothe and await outside," Verana instructed, and as they finally shuffled out and the doors to the chamber were being closed, Elder Eomun's voice was heard.

"Continue." Then all sound was cut off from within, as the doors closed with a deep, ominous clang that echoed down the long cavern that curved gently upward towards the distant light of day.

After many long minutes of trudging along in silence along carven steps, they came up from out of the deep cavern and into the forests outside, where crisp, cool breeze of the heights met them. Standing of the western face of Mount Ilgast, they could see the sleepy village of Ingnam below that they all called home, yet it would be while before Karren would come up to join them.

Undoubtedly, everyone present felt some degree of mortification as he was, now that the fires of arousal were not surging through his veins. Had the actual village Elders not been present to inform them that what they were about to go through was an actual part of their trials, it was highly doubtful that anyone would have believed it was a trial, let alone go through with it – it was far too different, let alone bordering on sleazy, compared to the trials of wit, body, and skill that they had been formerly undertaken.

Whilst they waited, Sorryn went to a nearby stream to splash cooling water on his flushed face. Removing the voluminous robe, he tied it off at his waist and proceeded to cleanse his body of some of the stains of sweat and semen and paint. Disappointment tinged the triumphant afterglow of orgasm, for he had really wanted his first experience to be with Sarah. But there had not been penetration, and it had been as part of his duties as a potential champion for the village... Sorryn shook his head with a growl and resolved not to fuss over what he hadn't any control over.

Only slightly taller than average height, he was compactly built and responsive in his movements, with dark shaggy hair and light hazel eyes that seemed yellow in the right light, giving him an almost feral cast at times. As he shook the water from his sinewy limbs, his attention was called to the rustle of leaves that announced the arrival of two others.

Marcus and Clara, another of Ingnam's prospective champions, were making their way too him. Marcus was tall and almost lanky, whereas Clara was slender and had a tomboyish cast with short brown hair. Initially, they were all sheepy as the considered each other, but Marcus decided to break the tension first.

"Tough break, huh?" he grinned.

"Yeah, I don't think anyone was expecting something like that," growled Sorryn.

"I don't think anyone was," sighed Clara. Usually she was a brazen and brassy sort, but now, her shyness and the way she clutched her robes close was rather girlish.

"Where did they get those girls?" asked Marcus, glancing back towards the cave. "I've never seen them before in my life, and I know pretty much everyone in the village."

"Maybe they came from outside?" offered Clara somewhat hesitantly.

"Then why be so sneaky about bringing them here? I haven't heard a word about outsiders coming here, and I'm pretty sure something like that wouldn't get past widow Rayner of all people."

Sorryn offered no insight onto his thoughts on the matter as he cast his brooding gaze into the woods beyond the stream. He wanted to trust the Elders, everyone did, but the often clandestine nature of the tests and trials they were put through often had Sorryn wondering more often than not. At this point, he no longer felt it was relevant – he had succeeded only at the trial of body, after which he had second place in all others, including today – Karren was likely the next champion of Ingnam, to follow after the others who had gone before and aid them in keeping Ingnam safe from The Darkness.

"Perhaps its for the best," he muttered beneath his breath. Now he could stay and be with his friends, and get married to his childhood sweetheart. And the more he thought about it, the more it sounded good. Why had he wanted to go in the first place? To see a face he never knew?

The murmur of the crowd in front of the cave's entrance told them that Karren's trial was over and that she was joining them, along with Elder Eomun, Verana, and Cadwen, the later of whom was the eldest of the Elders and was truly showing his age. Karren was clearly as embarrassed about the whole thing as everyone else, but her pride was fierce and she wore the accomplishment of her victory like a badge.

"You have all done well," intoned Verana with a pleasant, motherly smile.

"Yes," nodded Eomun. "We regret the... nature of the trial itself, but clues to some portents cannot be divined in any other manner. Hence we left this one for last."

The announcement that this was the final test, had everyone whispering anew, except for Sorryn and Karren, who both glanced at each other, Sorryn blankly, and Karren with a faint grin. They had been good friends at one time, may have been even more, but at some point, the relationship soured before it could come to that. Sorryn decided to put some distance, whilst Karren decided she had to prove who was the better between them.

He had always wondered why, but was too proud to ask why. Yet a small part of him was secretly worried that they might reconcile and then it might jeopardise his relationship with Sarah. When he thought of it that way, he realised he hadn't entirely put her behind him as he liked to pretend. With midnight hair, and mismatched blue and green eyes, Karren's athletic frame was still feminine and she presented an image of liveliness and dynamism. Her breasts were full and larger than Sarah's, though neither of them could be considered particularly endowed.

"As always," reminded Elder Nomur, "all that has passed here, shall remained sealed to ourselves."

There was a murmur of acknowledgement from those gathered, Elders and prospectives alike. It was then that Sorryn noticed that the Acolytes had not followed the Elders out. If anyone else noticed, they kept it to themselves.

"Return to your homes and rest," advised Elder Verana. "Tonight, the omens shall be read, and tomorrow, one of you will be Ingnam's new Champion."


	2. Shorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con, Blowjob | Vanilla M/F

 

The ground seemed to rise up to strike him like a club, and Sorryn could feel the sharp rock all but cutting into his cheek, even as his skin was bruised by the jarring impact. Hurt as it might have, it all felt incomparable to the dizzying wave of nausea that almost caused him to wretch but for the seething fury boiled through his veins.  Pushing himself into kneeling position, he stabbed the sword in his right hand into the ground for support.

Even so, his vision was dancing and his ears were ringing, and he was slow to take in the world in his dazed state.  Somewhere, Karren was shouting; he heard the words, but without comprehension.  The only thing that seemed real to him in all the world was his rage.  The sword in his left hand was still bloodied.  Eomun's blood.  Sarah had always told him that these swords would bring him unhappiness, but was he unhappy?  Glancing around again, it all seemed so obvious; he hadn't been sent here to protect Ingnam.  He had been sent here to die.  Most likely like every Champion before him...

"Get up you stupid bastard!" shouted Karren desperately.  Finally, the words were registering and Sorryn shot up, but it was not to him that Karren was shouting to, but at the inert figure of Marcus who was still slumped on the ground.

Around them was a broad plateau of obsidian rock that Sorryn quickly came to realise, jutted out of the earth below like an ebon column hundreds of feet into the air, towering over the land around it.  A pale, windswept desert lay beneath a midnight sky, across which dark, menacing clouds raced at breakneck speed.  The low boom of thunder seemed to amplify the forlornness and desolation that was captured in the emptiness and black, jagged rocks that lay half-buried in the dunes.

A short distance behind them, a twisted circle of rock stood upon the ground as though it had grown from the barren black basalt, and, in the hollow of the circle, shimmered a portal of swirling deep blues, fervent crimsons, and bruised purples, all swirling like the disturbed surface of a pond.  Through it, on the other side, the forbidden cavern inside Mount Ilgast probably awaited, and, beyond it, the village of Ingnam.  Their home. But was it his anymore?

"Stop spacing out like a fucking wool-herder, get your head together!" That one had been aimed at him.  Karren didn't swear often, but when she did, it was because she was nervous – he liked to think he knew her at least that well.  Sheathing his swords, Sorryn came to try and get Marcus to his feet, who was starting to groan.

Between them, they lifted him to his feet, at which point Marcus had regained enough consciousness to try and shake them off.  "Let's not do that again," he muttered beneath his breath.

"So you have come."

At the sound of another voice, their heads shot up in alarm. There, before the portal, stood a dark figure of black mists and flaming eyes – there had been nowhere on that open plateau to hide, nor had they seen it approach. It was miraculous, incredible, impossible, and yet it was true. Sorryn disengaged Marcus' arm from around his neck and slowly interposed himself between his companions and the dark wraith, who watched them unperturbed with the vast patience of an ageless being.

"Welcome, Champions. Shorn has awaited this moment for some time now."  The voice that spoke was like no earthly voice any of them had ever heard; composed of a chorus of male and female voices that spoke in unison, all ringing with the uncanny hollow dirge of a bell tolling at midnight in an abandoned temple.

"Who are you?" demanded Sorryn in no friendly tone, measuring the distance between them and trying to decide if he could snatch out his swords in time.

"I am Harbinger."  Sorryn waited expectantly for more, but the shadow remained silent.

"Why do you address us as Ingnam's Champions?" asked Karren cautiously. "There is only supposed to be  _one_  champion of Ingnam, which So–"

"Always one Champion, yes," the shadow answered enigmatically. "Men and women come to guide Shorn along the paths of fate. One by one to champion the light and the darkness, the man and the beast.  Now the time for guidance is at an end and the time of prophecy is at hand; when three champions alight upon the lands of Shorn, the Champion of Corruption shall arise to usher in a new era."

Marcus jerked forward.  "Are you saying that one of us is supposed to become part of what we've all sworn to defend our home against?  Frankly, if anyone here is eligible for that position, it would be you."

"I am but a shadow of all possibilities, champion.  What  _you_  become, is for you to  _decide_."

Although Karren and Marcus were present, Sorryn decided to press with the question most on his mind.  "Tell me, shade, are we even here to save Ingnam? Or is this 'champion' business a load of crap."

Karren began to berate him, and although he couldn't see it, he was certain Marcus was scandalised – since they could all remember, to be chosen as champion was the greatest honour in the village – but Sorryn had eyes only for Harbinger, who seemed silent in consideration.  It was that silence that convinced him that whatever this entity was, it was not one to lie, but it would surely have a way of bending the truth.  Yet, without any trace of human expression, it was difficult to tell what thoughts lay behind that dark veil.

"The action of every champion can save Ingnam if they wish it, and to date, their efforts have indeed staved off the erasure of your little world.  Now, you may choose to honour those efforts, or cast them aside."

Sorryn grimaced, as though confirming some private thought of his own.  "What do we have to do?" demanded Karren from behind.  After a few moments of silence, Harbinger glided away to stand before the portal as though looking into its hypnotic depths.

"The Midnight Host stands upon three pillars.  Three are the Demon Lords whose power and will animate the demon hordes:  Akivasha, Bashnurmon, Valastra.  Topple one and the Host will falter.  Topple all three and the blow shall be grievous indeed.  Yet, should the Champion of Corruption arise, such efforts will ultimately be in vain."

"Then who is this blasted champion?" demanded Sorryn, who was quickly wearying of Harbinger's indirect manner.

"That is not known to me," came the reply after a few long moments during which each present was sure that all three of them had been weighed in Harbinger's mind for some quality or ability that only it knew to seek.  "But you will, now, enact your parts in the prophecy and set into motion Shorn's final fate."

As they watched in alarm, Harbinger began to grow and become nebulous, engulfing the portal in its dark, whirlwind form and part of the plateau behind.  Its eyes were no longer pinpricks, but immense balls of balefire looking down from the heights, whilst the clouds above swirled down to meet it.

"Now,  _leave_."

The wall of swirling darkness expanded and overtook them, and Sorryn's outstretched caught with those of this friends even as they were caught up and thrown headlong into the ultimate vortex of darkness where the wind shrieked, lightning flashed, and a thousand voices screamed and laughed and roared in hideous cacophony.

* * *

 

Whatever maelstrom they had found themselves in, Sorryn's ultimate awakening was strangely peaceful.  Lying on his side, he found himself looking at the naturally weathered rock of a cavern, illuminated by flickering torchlight.  For a moment, he thought he was inside the forbidden cavern of Ilgast before subtle details told him it was not.  Remembrance of what had happened flooded back to him.

In front of him, he saw Marcus draped over a rock, as though someone had dropped him on it and left him there.  Or he had fallen there.  Of Karren, he could see no sign.   _Perhaps she's somewhere else?_

Despite an oppresive cloudiness that pervaded his head, the sight of his swords, carefully placed standing next to the exit that winded up to the light galvanised him.  As he tried to get up, he was shocked out of his torpor to realise that his hands had been bound behind his back and feet as well.  Jerking at the cords, he grunted as he tried to work himself free, thankful that the ties were loose.

Another sound came to him and he jerked around, thinking to see his captor, though nothing met his sight.  Somewhere deeper down the cave, he realised that someone must be further back if he was to judge by the play of shadow on the walls.  It seemed there was at least one other person there, though the shadow was curiously misshapen and in the throes of repetitive motion.

Whatever was occupying his captor's attention, Sorryn didn't care, so long as it kept him or her or it occupied a moment longer.  Working furiously, his wrists finally slipped through with minor burns, and a short moment later, his feet were free as well.  Rubbing his wrists, he quickly went for the weapons, noting that Marcus had been similarly bound.  Cutting the bonds on the keen edge, he freed himself from the cumbersome ceremonial robes and crept forward as quietly as he could, giving a grunt of disgust as he came to peer around the corner.

At first, he thought it was a large child or small man.  A reddish, rangy creature, from whom gangly bat-like wings sprouted from its shoulders stood hunched on bent knees in the uncertain illumination of several flickering torches.  Naked to all appearances, its hips were working furiously as its pointed tail, curiously long for its size, lashed for side to side with vicious rhythm.

On the ground beneath, Karren lay limply, the front of her robes torn open to reveal her breast, her head seized between clawed hands.  Her eyes were half-opened and seemed uncomprehending, her lips stretched open into a wide 'O' as an obscene red phallus – comedically large on such a small creature, but for the obscenity of the situation – which was thrust between them and pulled out glistening only to be pushed back in again.  Her chest was slick with the fluids that leaked from where the two met.  The sounds Sorryn had heard were the grunts and snarling, lustful invectives as it pursued the use of Karren's mouth with relentless ardour.  Karren seemed incapable of any resistance, save a weak, muffled moan.

Had it been another situation, Sorryn would have capitalised on its state of distraction, but in conjunction with Karren's violation by this inhuman creature, Sorryn came out with a roar as he charged.  Inhuman though it was, it still proved capable of being surprised and shocked as it whipped a wide-eyed horned face at him.  It's beady eyes were only surprised for a moment, before it leapt back, its shaft freeing itself with an lewd 'schurlk' and the vicious swipe cut only thin air.

"How can you be awake?  You were drugged!" it screeched with a harsh, high-pitched grating voice as it took to the air, where it flapped hovering out of his reach.

"Willpower you little shit," snarled Sorryn, his mind still burning with the thought of what the smaller creature had done to Karren.  Lowering his swords as though he was willing to abort violence and talk, his hand snapped forward, hurling one of the blades as straight and true as a javelin.  Caught off-guard, it impaled one of its wings, pinning it to the packed earth of the wall, where the creature screamed and jerked ineffectually.  Sorryn came in for the killing blow.

With a snarl, its mouth gaped suddenly and stream of fire rushed forth, which Sorryn only avoided by ungracefully throwing himself to the side.  Crashing next to Karren, he gathered her in his arms and rolled clear as fire rained down again.

Having bought itself a moment, it jerked and kicked and cursed at the pinning steel and at last tore it free.  He turned to look for the boy and the girl, only to realise that Sorryn was already on him, sword raised high in a two-handed grip and cold rage on his face.  With unbelievably quick motion, it slipped aside from under the descending sword and the blade struck sparks as it rang against stone.  Without pause, Sorryn rolled, retrieved his other blade in the same motion, and came on again.

The winged imp hovered high for a moment and then screeched an unearthly wail that distorted the very air and had Sorryn on his knees, his swords falling from nerveless fingers that he tried to cover his ears as it seemed the very rock under him reverberated from the deadly sonics, amplified by the close confines until the world began to rock and tilt like a ship in a nauseating storm.  By the time he realised the sound had stopped for several moments, it was rushing down on him, claws outstretched.

As it was about to reach him, something hard and heavy crashed into it, sending it tumbling.  Karren was awake, leaning against the wall, but another rock was read in her hand.  Swearing under his breath for the ringing in his ears, he caught his weapons and tossed one to Karren, who expertly snatched it out of the air.  Like a pair of predators they advanced on the creature in a pincer movement.

An infuriated snarl of fire escaped its mouth as it realised it was outmatched, and, with a fluid swoop towards the mouth of the cave that startled a dazed Marcus, it disappeared and was gone.  It was all over so quickly, with no evidence of battle or the creature remaining, that Sorryn and Karren cast a glance at each other as though to make sure it had really happened.

Karren abruptly sank to her knees, retching and spitting with disgust.  Sorryn politely affected not to notice her unlovely exertions, realising she must have be mortified enough as it were and burning with humiliation that he had seen. Marcus' wordless expression and the frantic flabbergasted motions of his hands was more than enough to explain his confusion over the entire situation.

"A demon," shrugged Sorryn wearily as he went to slump against the wall.  In all honesty, this first encounter was not what he had been expecting – teeth and talons and terror, yes – Karren's ordeal, no.

* * *

 

"Here." Karren was coming up, holding closed the front of her ruined clothes.  She tossed his sword back to him, knowing how much he valued it.  She was probably one of three people who knew the real reason he had wanted to become Ingnam's next champion, despite it not being for the villages benefit.

"What's this?" asked Marcus as he toed something in the corner of the cave with his foot.  There seemed to be leather satchel lying on the floor, the contents of which clinked to the inspection of Marcus' foot.

"Belonged to the damned creature," spat Karren irritably at having to think about it again.  "It had a bunch of potions in there – used them to sedate us and… you know, never mind.  Let's get out of here.  I want to get out; who knows if it will come back.  With more."  A shudder ran through her at the thought.

"Alright, we'll–" Sorryn was about to lend her a hand, when Karren knocked away the offered arm.

"Don't come near me, Sorryn.  Not now."

Sorryn sighed, but shrugged.  The old Karren seemed to be back, and bitchier from her humiliation, if a little unsteady and flushed.  Ever curious, Marcus scooped up the satchel and they made their way out.

Unlike the forbidden cavern of Ilgast, they didn't have far to go to get out.  They emerged cautiously to be greeted by the greenery of vibrant woodland.  Yet it was not the forest that surrounded Ingnam, but an altogether different one, similar, yet subtly… strange; where the trees of Ingnam grew straight and tall, here they twisted and curved as they reached for the sky.  High above, the light strove valiantly to get through the leafy vault to reach the forest floor.  There was very little chance they'd be able to track a flying creature through this maze.

A stream was running nearby and Karren immediately rushed to it as soon as she espied it.  Splashing her face with water, she rinsed and spat and started drinking, whilst Sorryn waited with some impatience.

"You have a plan?" asked Marcus, sensing his impatience.

"We should head downstream and find where it leads – hopefully to a river, along which is a better chance of finding a settlement of some kind.  We could shelter here, but if that demon imp was here, there's no guaranteeing that others of its kind aren't nearby, and in what numbers.  At any rate, we can't shelter in the cave, even if it is a good spot."

Marcus merely shrugged, for he was not much of a woodsman.  The comforts and walls of Ingnam were always more to his liking.  A chemist by trade, he was curious about the contents of the crystalline vials that lay within the satchel, having never seen their like in his life.  Karren had said that the creature had used them to drug them, which was probably the drained ones, though four were empty of their contents.  His eyes were next drawn to the pink-coloured vials that bubbled and felt slight warm to the touch.

"Pack it up; seems like Karren's done," ordered Sorryn.  Karren was indeed straightening from the stream, though she shook her head angrily and squeezed the bridge of her nose as though her head was hurting.  Sorryn thought to comfort her, but thought better of it, knowing her temperament.  Without further word, the three of them headed off downstream.

The sky was turning night and they still hadn't left the forest.  Even though the darkness closed like a wall around them, Sorryn was at least glad to hear the normal buzz of non-predatory nocturnal creatures.  Settling in the shadow of a cliff face a small distance from the stream, the men set up camp whilst Karren crouched in a corner, leaving Sorryn to wonder if the ordeal had affected her more than he realised as she was usually strong-willed and fiery rather than the withdrawn figure he now saw.

Presently, a small fire was burning to keep away the night chill, they took stock of their supplies.  The imp's bag satchel held little in the way of food and the few berries they had managed to find were but a meagre handful, and were of a variety that Sorryn couldn't identify despite his knowledge of woodcraft.  There was silence for a long time as each contemplated their own thoughts, until it was finally decided they would tough it out for the night. Marcus laid out the contents of the satchel to mull over the vials and other knick-knacks, whilst Karren excused herself to go and wash at the stream, but not before venomously warning the pair not to come near her.

Sorryn sighed, casting his eyes in her direction before she vanished from view, before turning back to Marcus.

"What are you hoping to figure out there?" Marcus shrugged for an answer, before rolling out the four empty vials, and putting the yellow ones nearby.

"Karren says we were drugged, so it stands to reason the empty ones were used.  See here, at the bottom.  There's a bit of yellow residue here, which probably means the ones used to keep us sedate are these amber ones."

"But there's four empty ones and only three of us," noted Sorryn.

"Yeah; seems one of these pink ones were also used, though obviously I don't know what for or the effect.  Maybe he drank one himself and these are some sort of restorative or some form of invigoration potion?" Marcus uncorked the vial and dipped the tip of his small finger in and was about to touch it to his tongue with it when Sorryn caught him by the wrist, to which Marcus gave a sudden gasp.

"Seriously?" grimaced Sorryn with a raised brow.  "Isn't that a little risky, especially something from the bag of some demon?"

Marcus chuckled and shrugged jovially before sobering as he expounded his thoughts.  "He used it someone, be it himself or one of us.  I don't think someone would willingly drink poison, and if it was used one of us, we're still walking, none the worse for wear."

Sorryn relinquished his hold, though Marcus didn't immediately try to taste the drop on his finger.   _Were they okay?_   He took a glance in Karren's direction.  Maybe it had been used on her, which was what was prompting her withdrawal – perhaps she was suffering in silence?  It would be like her to do so; Karren never believed in showing weakness in front of anyone.  Most of all him.

"A sweet tang to this," noted Marcus as he took his finger away from his tongue.  He tasted the fluid, rolling it in his mouth, then spat it out.  "Not caustic at least.  A restorative maybe?  If the pleasant taste is all there is to it, I can certainly see myself using these as a pick-me-up."

"Let's not risk it," grunt Sorryn, leaning back against the rock. Marcus shrugged, corked the vial and went to examining the other items.

Long minutes went by and some wood was added to the fire to keep it going. Marcus was still playing around with his findings, though with more focus and intent than he had previously shown.  Sorryn was beginning to get nervous with Karren's absence.  When he couldn't stand the waiting any longer, he got up to go and find her.

"You'll get a black eye for your troubles," chuckled Marcus without looking up.  "Karren's plenty capable, you know."

"I know," grunted Sorryn.  "I know that better than anyone.  I also know she's overconfident.  And stubborn.  I'll risk it – I'm not letting anyone get hurt on my watch."

Tracing his way in the semi-darkness, he reached the stream and saw no sign.  Looking over the place, he finally traced his way down to a reedy section of the brook that offered the cover of privacy and gingerly peered in.  Seeing no one within, he swore under his breath as he wondered where she had gotten to before spotting her robes that lay discarded on fallen log near the bank.

Startled, he went to pick up.  Surely Karren must have been nearby, but the waters were empty.  Just as he was beginning to think she had been snatched away, a rustle in the reeds behind him brought him wheeling.

Karren grabbed him in a harsh grip by the collar and Sorryn closed his eyes, awaiting some blow or slap, but a moment later he felt the weight of her body fall against him.  Opening his eyes, he was looking straight into a face that seemed both angry and yet distressed.  Her hands were shaking, he realised, though she made no attempt to let go.  Occasional shudders wracked the rest of her naked body.

"I can't take it anymore," she all but whimpered, averting her mismatched eyes from his.  Sorryn had never seen her in such a pitiable state.

"What's wrong?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her.  Beneath his touch, she was trembling, though whether from weakness or anger, he couldn't tell.  She opened her mouth to say something, only to draw ragged breath.  She seemed almost furious with herself, yet her eyes were on the verge of tears.

"Get it together Karren!" he shook her lightly to try and focus her and to try and stoke pride.  Instead, her eyes went wide and she gasped.  It was the first in years he had seen her do something so appealingly girlish.  She had been through a lot, he realised – thoughts that had occurred to him previously, but were only now sinking in.  As had he.  Sarah was probably lost to him; the image of her in tears and grief as she cradled the dying Eomun in her arms was still burned in his mind.  And she was far.  Karren was right here before him and needed him.

Their eyes met and he leaned in.  Karren bent away, shaking her head slightly at his approach, but he caught up to her and their lips met.  What he intended to be gentle and reassuring, she suddenly returned with more force than he expected.  Her mouth opened to receive him and the nature of the kiss changed suddenly.  Softness was quickly replaced by hunger, heated and primal.

Hands clutched at his hair and his clothes, trying to pull them from his body and he obliged.  His own hands groped, holding her to him; exploring the curves of her waist and firmness of her buttocks that were larger than his clutching hand could hold.  The hot throb of desire that ripped through him had him flushed with instant aroused.

The instant his clothes were off, she jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist, even as he caught her up, supporting  her weight.  The feel of her sex was hot against him and he gave a feral growl, his fingers digging deeply into the pale cheeks of her ass.

They stumbled, still kissing wildly.  Sorryn kicked at the discarded clothes and brought her down on them, kissing her all over; lips, face, neck.  Beneath him, Karren writhed and moaned her pleasure.  He caught at one of her breasts, squeezing firmly, and she gasped.  He set his lips to the stiff nipple and sucked and Karren threw her head back with a whimper.  Her hips rolled, squeezing his trapped erection between the two of them, the hot feel of which drove her to more urgent efforts.

For long minutes, they struggled and strained achingly with one another.  Then Karren's hand shot between them and he felt her take hold of his manhood, which throbbed heatedly in her grip.  The muscles in his body tensed, and he heaved upon so that he could look down between the two of them.  Karren's attention was likewise diverted.  Twisting and manoeuvring, she finally fixed the swollen head to the secret entrance between her legs, long since soaked and flushed in the throes of her unbearable arousal.

Their eye met: his impassioned and hers desperate.  Her arms wrapped around his head and her legs lightly about his waist.  Sorryn knew what came next, yet same part of him was telling him that there was a line that should not be crossed; that, perhaps, something might be wrong.  Soft, cool fingers touched his face.  His own fingers clutched the fabric beneath them and his hips shot forward, a brief resistance hindering him before the hot velvet clutch of her body enveloped him.  Karren's eyes clenched shut and she held back a strained cry, holding him tightly, even as he gathered her up in his arms to crush her against him in turn.

A long and hot eternity later, that couldn't have lasted longer than a gasping minute, and his hips began to move again and thrust rhythmically.  Her body began to rock back and forth in steady motion, and the soft sounds of her gasps began to rise and fall over the babbling of the water, feminine and alluring, filling the little enclosure.


	3. Desires in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-Con Demon M/Female | Vanilla M/F

The silence of the nighted woods was disturbed by the flurry of activity that unfolded around the mouth of the cave and the forest immediately surrounding it.  Pale figures wrapped and hooded in red silk paced to and fro, some of them walking on hands and feet in animal-like manner with their faces close to the ground.  All of them were equally feminine and slender, and bore an uncanny resemblance to each other with straight black hair like polished jet and hard, unblinking eyes.  The long length of silk, loosely clinging to their bodies, did little to hide the nudity of lean, hairless bodies beneath, or the faint suggestion of scaliness that glinted in green patches when the pale light of the moon caught them at the right angle.

Perched on a branch of one of the trees, like an inhuman overseer, the demon imp that had fled the cave earlier looked over the scene with growing impatience.  Presently, one of the serpentine women came and knelt before him, her head lowered.

"There is no trace master," she hissed softly.  "There is no scent to pick up, no tracks to follow."

"Impossible!" screamed the imp, breathing fire and stamping a small foot furiously, causing the contents of his new satchel to clink precariously.  Swooping down from the tree, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the mouth of the cave.  "Search again!"

"Give it up, Masrak," spoke another woman from the shadow of a tree.  "If my magic couldn't find any sign or trace, your pets won't find anything either."

Unlike the serpentine women, the woman was an albino of epicurean form, with pale yellow hair that brushed her back and pouting lips that were tugged into a smirk at Masrak's misfortune.  A simple leather breastband constrained her firm apple-sized breasts and a long, silken breechcloth provided for semblance of modesty whilst emphasising the curve of her hips and the long, pale sleekness of her lissom legs.  The great, ivory bat-wings that extended from her back, she folded about her like a cape.

"You are not here to voice opinions, Thalis!" the imp snapped as he relinquished his hold on the snake woman, who sprang away, and rounded on the albino.  "If I require you to use your mouth, it will be to wrap it around my co–"

"Just how did your charge escape anyway?" smoothly interposed Thalis, who's taunting lavender eyes glinted with the assurance that she already had some idea.

Masrak sensed it as well and instantly rounded on her, roaring with fire, but Thalis stood amidst the rushing flames unperturbed other than to push back a yellow lock that fell out of place with a smirk that lasted until Masrak backhanded her across the face.  Stumbling, she snarled, revealing the rows of her small sharp teeth.

"You forget your place, half-breed," sneered Masrak congenially, having vented some of his ire.  "You may have attained some minor distinction due to a lapse in Naggrish's judgement, but you will never be the equal of a true demon."

"And just how was a _true demon,_ such as yourself, bested by a village idiot," returned Thalis sarcastically as she straightened herself, checking her lip for blood.

Masrak looked at her with returning irritation, but turned his gaze back to the cave.  "I was overpowered!  I don't know what happened this time, but there were three of the whelps instead of the usual one."

"Three?"  Thalis glared at Masrak incredulously, but it was not amazement born of disbelief.  Her eyes searched his face, for some sign that he _knew_ , but could see only hurt pride and arrogance written there.  Pride, arrogance, and swinish ignorance.  Her lips once again curved into a faint smile, one more mysterious than before.

"Search the cave again!" Masrak pointed a taloned finger into the dark interior.  "Start from the beginning!"

Thalis went, if only to no longer be in the imp's onerous presence.  The cave was ordinary to all appearances, but the thrum of magic was so intense as to be all but tangible.  The villagers would usually appear here or in one of the other caves, where they were ambushed by such fools as Masrak.  Under normal circumstances, it should have been easy to pick up the trail, yet now there was seemingly nothing to find.  She did not bother to use her power again in a fruitless endeavour to satisfy Masrak's spleen.

The answer, at least to Thalis, was obvious.  Someone had concealed the trail from them.  At moments it almost seemed as though there was something there to find, if only she had the _power_ to pierce the veil she suspected was there.  Despite a desire to vex Masrak, her personal curiosity demanded that she catch a glimpse of these three.

Struck by a sudden thought, she spread her arms and wings wide, closing her eyes and opening the mystic eye of heart and mind.  "Cunning," she smiled silently to herself as she found what she had been looking for.

"Well?" demanded Masrak as he came down into the cave, prompting Thalis to cluck with irritation and the disturbance to her train of thought.

"I have already told you, there is nothing to be found," she exasperated at his bull-headed insistence and the irritation his presence was causing her.  Masrak considered her for a few long moments, but was only met by her disdain.

"Then what use are you to me?" he spat at last.  Thalis tossed her head back with a sniff and made to exit the cave, but her motion was arrested before she could leave.  "But before you leave, I will see for myself why you are counted among Naggrish's favourites."

The face Thalis presented as she turned to face him was blank, but her stare was witheringly cold.  Yet, if this curbed any of Masrak's newfound enthusiasm, he did not show it; his disproportionate erection was already tenting his loincloth in his over eagerness.  "On your hands and knees bitch."

Thalis did as she had been bid without pleasure; it would have been so easy to reduce the arrogant little turd to dust with a word or gesture, but having been placed in the imp's charge, disobedience would only earn her punishment from Naggrish if the Masrak's pet snakes didn't tear her apart first for killing him.

Her master of the hour wasted no time, ripping off the cloth that kept him from ploughing her the moment she was down, even as he freed his own studded shaft and stroked generously.  Even with Thalis on all fours, Masrak had to stand on his toes to align himself, but with a snicker, he thrust forward and sheathed himself to the balls in a single thrust.  About him, her hot ivory cunt clenched convulsively and Thalis hissed.

"Naggrish's whore still as tight as a virgin?" chortled Masrak.  Thalis flinched as she felt sharp claws digging into the pale mounds of her buttocks as the smaller demon adjusted himself and started to thrust and groan with vigour.  If there was any saving grace to the situation, it was that, like all imps, Masrak was unimaginative and focused on the matter of satisfying his urges without patience or variation.  Even so, the roughness of his play had her grunting as every other thrust struck her deeply.

"No need to be so recalcitrant," grinned Masrak with studied cruelty, without missing a stroke.  "If you need to blame someone, blame your royal mother, who was tempted to sample the delights of a gangbang of a thousand and one imps!  Needless to say, she turned out to be quite the whore as she worked through the assemblage for three days and three nights!  Pity you'll never know who was the father, or perhaps they all had hand - or a cock - in the matter!"

Thalis set her teeth and refused to give him the satisfaction of any further sound from her.

"Of course, she did have a little help," grinned Masrak maliciously as he dug into his bag and uncorked a vial filled with bubbling pink contents.  "And you can show me just how much she loved it."

The half-demon albino gave a hiss and a gasp as the contents of the vial splashed across her back.  What started as tingling in her loins quickly raged into an inferno of burning lust that swept out from her crotch, searing the rest of her body with uninhibited, unrepentant desire.  And soon, the interior of the cave rang out with wanton moans and the frantic, lustful slapping of two bodies meeting in an excess of sexual congress.

* * *

 

Karren knew something was wrong, but not what, and at present, neither did she care; Sorryn was hammering away between her spread legs and that was all that mattered.  Since she had awoken in that godforsaken cavern, her body had felt on fire and when that obscene phallus had been thrust before her, it was only the lack of strength in her limbs that had prevented her from throwing her face forward to take it up between her lips.  Sorryn intervening and the ensuing fight had jarred her out of whatever trance she had found herself in, but when the creature had fled, and in the lull that followed, the unnatural desires started to creep back.

She had tried to choke it down as best as she could, but being in the proximity of two men was driving her crazy.  By the time they had built the campfire, she couldn't take it any longer and excused herself so that she could try and take care of the problem herself.  A quiet place, hidden from view, and her clothes came off and her hands began to caress her secret lips bringing only the smallest pangs of relief.

If Karren was honest with herself, at that point it really wouldn't have mattered who came looking for her.  Maybe even both of them together?  But it was Sorryn, and part of her was glad for that.

The first thrust he made surprised her.  Surprised her by how _good_ it felt.  Karren wasn't a virgin and had experienced sexual pleasure before, but this… the way his manhood filled her so perfectly as though they had once been two halves now made whole again; the way static seemed to dance between their skin wherever they touched as though conspiring to keep them away followed by the exhilarating rush from defying that denial.  Her body couldn't see to get enough: groping, kissing, thrusting, entwining, demanding, gasping - whatever she could do to let him know she needed this.

Sinking her nails in his flanks, she urged him harder with gritted teeth and clenched eyes at the unyielding feel of his length buried inside her, and the riot of pleasure each bucking thrust he made brought her.  Her back arched as a fierce, ripping orgasm tore through her, prompting a guttural growl.  Locking her smoldering mismatched gaze fiercely with his, those feral yellow eyes made her feel like an animal herself and couldn't bring herself to care about the discomfort of the rocky ground pressing into her back through the laid out robes.  Sorryn had fucked her through the throes of her climax without pause and a gasping minute later, she was once again sailing on the riptide of pleasure as her eager sex contracted in spasms on the throbbing shaft of her lover.

And, with it, came a return of sanity.  Karren was not confused, for she knew exactly what had happened and what _was_ happening.  _W_ _hy_  she had allowed it to happen was a different matter altogether.

"Sorryn?" she tried, but he clearly didn't seem to understand as he kept up with his heated exertions.  Had she not suddenly felt like a child in the midst of an adult act, she might have even let him, for her body and stretched passage was singing him praises.

She tried again, more urgently, yet the urgency of her voice only spurred him on.

"Damn it Sorryn!"  The punch to the side of his face instantly jarred him out of his fervency and the two of them instantly became two once again.

"What the hell Karren?" he groaned, cradling the side of his bruised face for she had not held back in her panic.  She knew he deserved an answer, but could not find the words; she could only pull up her legs and hold herself close.  The night air felt chill against the heat of her slippery folds, above which was nestled the dark triangle of womanhood now slick with their exertions, which merely served to remind her of what they had been in the midst of doing only moments ago.

"I'm sorry," was all she could offer, insufficient answer thought it was.  He looked up at her, perhaps to retort, but thought better of it when he saw the fright and sadness in her desperate eyes.  With a sigh, he lowered his head, clenching his fists but relenting.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

 

 Marcus sighed as he shot a glance in the direction Karren had gone, followed by Sorryn.  If they hadn't come back yet, they were either arguing or else going at it like rabbits and since he couldn't hear the former, it was quite likely the latter.  Or else something in the woods had got them.  Suppressing a shiver at that thought, he turned his attention back to emptied contents of the bag; he was still quite surprised to see how conventional it all looked considering it once belonged to some demonic creature.

Even thinking of where they were made him wish Sorryn hadn't gone off, even if it probably wasn't for the best for Karren to be alone for too long.  Still, it would have been nice for someone to be concerned about him for a change - Karren barely gave him a thought, and Sorryn... well, he wasn't sure what Sorryn thought half the time, but his worries were clearly for Karren.   _I should never have gotten myself into this_ , he muttered ruefully as he thought back to when Karren had roped him and Clara into coming along when the Elders were bringing Sorryn up to Mount Ilgast.  It had all seemed to go downhill from there - a seemingly peaceful Ingnam night had become weird and terrible.

They had crept after the procession into the forbidden cavern.  The deeper they went into the cavern, the hotter it had seemed to became, yet it was not the heat born of fire or from being stifled, but seemingly from within their own bodies.  The very stone around them slowly changed the deeper they went, from angular and jagged to smooth and whorled, as they some unknown sensual hand had turned it to clay, worked it with a lascivious flourish, and set it back into rigidity again.  All the while, superstitious dread flitted around him on unseen wings.

Sorryn was standing with the Elders in a large chamber where the blackness of the rock was interlaced with veins of gold and a red, pulsing crystalline substance he had never seen.  In front of them, a great circle of twisted black iron standing in the ground, the center of which glimmered the colourful, rippling sheen of the Ilgast portal that would take Ingnam's champion to their destiny.  Or doom.  Even from where he was standing, Marcus could see that Sorryn was undisturbed by the aspect of that dreaded thing, which, frankly, terrified the hell out of him.

"As you step through the gateway, know that you become part of a venerable tradition Champion Sorryn," Elder Nomur was saying as he came to stand by Sorryn's side, placing a gentle hand on the youth's shoulder.  "Though it pains us to ask every champion to take this path, without the efforts of Ingnam's champions, we would face disaster.  Not just for us, but for the rest of the world as well."

"I understand," nodded Sorryn.  "I do not regret the task."

Nomur smiled warmly and hugged him in avuncular fashion.  Releasing Sorryn, Nomur stepped back to glance at the gate, but giving a nod to Sorryn.  "Go well, my boy."

Sorryn bowed, turned and began to walk toward the gate as Nomur made his way back to the gathered congregation.  He had covered less than half a dozen steps when Elder Eomun called for him to stop.  The other elders look surprised, but Sorryn looked back without puzzlement or surprise.

"Shit," swore Karren softly.  "Eomun noticed.  I told him not to bring those damn things with him."

"Champion Sorryn." Eomun's voice was like stone making a pronouncement.  "You know well that it is forbidden to bring weapons to this sacred place.  Relinquish your swords.  Immediately."

The older man held out a gnarled hand to accept his demand, but Sorryn made no move.  He looked between the outstretched hand and Eomun's face with narrowed eyes, making little attempt to hide his irritation with the Elder.

"Why?"  Eomun blinked at the question, seemingly surprised and displeased that someone would question his authority.  The harsh line of his mouth flattened as though in preparation of some rebuke, but before anything could be said, Elder Verana stepped forward.

"Because there are rules Sorryn," she explained gently.  "Rules not made by us, but dictated by the nature of the portal.  Attempting to pass through it with implements of metal would place us, and the village, in grave danger.  It has been tried in the past; Ingnam was almost lost in the backlash."

Coming to stand at Sorryn's side, she gently took one of his hands in both of hers.  "Please try to understand.  Would you not like to leave a keepsake?  Perhaps for _someone_?"

Verana looked back at the gathered elders and Marcus followed her gaze before realising there was another among the elders who was not an elder.  Sarah was also there, hands clasped in front of her and looking pained that Sorryn was leaving and that this last encounter between him and her father should have had to be like this.  Under her gaze, Sorryn retracted.  Throwing back his hood, he reached behind his back and began to draw the pair of blades he had strapped on beneath the robes.  Even though prepared to give them up, he was reluctant and held them tight as he looked at them.

"The swords!" snapped Eomun angrily as Sorryn stalled.  Veraran shot him a look of irritation, but the damage was done.  Sorryn's hand tightened on the scabbards.

"With due respect, Elders," strained Sorryn, "how does sending unarmed men and women into a realm of demons save our village from anything?"

Verana looked like she was trying her best to marshal the tact needed to resolve the situation whilst Eomun looked as though he was about to suffer an apoplexy from anger.  Perhaps because he had wanted to defy the man for so long, Sorryn continued, looking directly at Eomun as he did so.  "Is this really a rite to chose champions, or is this a sacrifice to keep what you fear at bay?  Or were you just looking to get rid of me, old man?  Well?  Out with it!"

"Sorryn, you must-"

Eomun pushed past Verana, his manner clearly of one who believed his personal authority and position would protect him.  As he seized the swords, Sorryn thoroughly divested him of that belief as he stepped in and brought his elbow crashing into the side of the man's head and Eomun reeled away.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," whispered Clara like a mantra.  Karren snarled in vexation, though it was not clear whether her ire was directed at Sorryn or at Eomun.  Marcus stood as indecisively as the other elders who wrung their hands and shot worried glances at one another, yet something in their manner suggested that their hesitation was not altogether bewilderment as much as it was a reluctance to approach that shimmering portal.  Sarah clapped her hands over her mouth.

Marcus was shaken out of his torpor as Karren shoved past all of them and went charging down, and though Sorryn saw her coming, he had eyes only for the floored Eomun who had murder in his eyes.  No one else seemed to have noticed Karren's approach until she was close to Sorryn and struck him in the face, and then confusion reigned.  Understandably, the other elders were amazed and shocked to find more people than they expected; Eomun was picking himself up, watching Sorryn warily, and Verana was carefully backing away.  Even with Karren's blow to his face and her shouting at him, Sorryn endured it stoically and whilst keeping his attention fixed on the man he hated, as though contemplating further violence.

Karren was still busy hurling abuse whilst Clara tried to calm her down, and Marcus was doing his best to play the role of peacemaker between all that Elder Verana seemed to have abandoned.

And then, everything began to move fast.

The sound of shrieking metal was loud, and to everyone's astonishment, the rigid circle around the gave was beginning to snap and warp fantastically.  With bemused horror, Marcus watched as large black skeletal arms formed out of the twisting metal as though the portal were trying to create a body for itself.  Then, Eomun darted forward, grabbing at Sorryn's swords whilst the youth was distracted and shoved him backward towards the demonic gateway, but as dumbstruck as Sorryn was, his wariness of Eomun proved stronger and he jerked back, securing his grip and Eomun, stepping back from the push, drew one of the blades with him.

The rest of Ingnam's elders were backing away, dragging Sarah with them, who was screaming for them to get away.  Karren was pulling at Sorryn when Marcus saw one of the massive hands draw back and swept down, and it was all he could do to leap desperately at the pair.  They tumbled in a heap together and the grabbing appendage snatched at empty air over them.  Clara, behind them, was taken by surprise and was sent sprawling across the room.

The trio rose and tried to make a dash for safety, but Eomun came at them - or, rather, at Sorryn - stabbing with the captured sword and trying to drive him back towards the gate.  But Eomun was no warrior; Sorryn sidestepped the intial clumsy thrust, seized the man's arm in the same motion and twisted the weapon back from his grasp.  Even in the chaos, Marcus heard the sickly rasping sound that followed.  Both men were holding on to each other, both of them looking at one another confused.  From Eomun's back, the length of Sorryn's blade protruded like a ghastly, blood-soaked stalk sprouting from his body.  They pulled away from each other and Eomun crumpled on the ground with a gasp.  Sorryn stood frozen were he was, seemingly unable to hear either Karren or Marcus' shouted warnings.  Even when the clawed hand seized him, his eyes remained fixed on the bloody scene before him, allowing himself to be lifted without reaction or resistance.

Marcus watched in horror as Karren made a bid to try and pull him free.  Rushing forward he tried to pull her away before something heavy struck them and a crushing pressure restrained them, and then, with dawning horror at what had happened, he watched as they were lifted bodily from the ground and were drawn closer and closer towards the gaping maw of the portal that was suddenly like a fanged mouth into which they were being thrust.

A cracking branch drew Marcus out of his reverie, noticing that Karren and Sorryn were returning.  Both of them were quiet and sheepish, refusing to meet each other's gaze or his own, prompting Marcus to smile inwardly.


End file.
